


Prince Charming Times Two

by CupcakeGirlA



Series: The Charm Series [2]
Category: Olympics RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Disney World & Disneyland, F/M, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Pregnancy, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:52:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeGirlA/pseuds/CupcakeGirlA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Ryan’s idea. His plan for how the three of you should celebrate your fourth year as a committed trio. You think it’s silly, and childish, and AMAZING, so you decide to just go with it. That’s how you roll now. Young at heart and always up for some good old fashioned family fun, you know, even when you’re in a semi-publicly polygamous marriage, and constantly under scrutiny by the press.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prince Charming Times Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missesbean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missesbean/gifts).



> Author’s Note: Fic for missesbean on her birthday. They’re her favorite pairing of mine. Sorry it’s so unforgivably late. :( No. Like over a YEAR late. Her birthday has come around TWICE since I started this for her.

It’s Ryan’s idea. His plan for how the three of you should celebrate your fourth year as a committed trio. You think it’s silly, and childish, and AMAZING, so you decide to just go with it. That’s how you roll now. Young at heart and always up for some good old fashioned family fun, you know, even when you’re in a semi-publically polyamorous marriage, and constantly under scrutiny by the press. Ryan comes to you first, because he knows you’ll be an easy sell and together you convince Michael. Not that he really needs much persuasion. You’re half convinced he only continues to object in order to keep getting the extra-long blowjobs he receives during the bargaining process. 

But in the end he agrees. That gives you three months to makes plans, book your hotel room and plane tickets, and to tell the kids. Brad’s a little too small to understand what Disney World is. He’s only two and a half years old. But Ryanne, at seven, knows and she’s ecstatic about it. 

“Mommy, will there be Princes and Princesses and castles and rides and Mickey Mouse and Pluto and ice cream and Alice and AHHH!?” she bounces around the living room in circles, short jean skirt flaring up around her hips to expose purple polka dot shorts underneath. You raise an eyebrow and look at Ryan and he shrugs his shoulders. 

“She has her own sense of style, Cath. Besides, they match her headband!” he says quietly. You focus on Ryanne again as she twirls to a stop and collapses on the floor cushion beside the couch, ending up in a giggling sprawl, her feet in the air, and her dark curly hair spread out across the floor. Her head is in fact adorned with a purple and white polka dot headband, though the purple and white colors are in the reverse of the pattern on her shorts. 

“This is gonna be so awesome!” she shrieks in glee. You rub your temples, but smile, your eyes going to Bradley. He’s standing between Michael’s spread knees, still chubby legs strong and sturdy, sticky hands clapping in excitement. Michael’s got hands on his little waist to stabilize him, even though Brad is way past the point of needing support. Your son is not excited about Disney World, you note. He’s excited because his big sister is so obviously happy and excited. 

“Dissey! DISSEY!!” he shouts, eyes focused on Ryanne, body bouncing against Michael. 

“Yes, Ryanne there will be all of those things. And more. We’re going to have so much fun,” you say, kneeling down to tickle your daughter. She giggles madly, face turning red. 

“We’ll let Papi play tour guide,” Michael jokes. “He’s been there so many times!” Ryan rolls his eyes, reaching down to scoop up Brad. 

“Not with you guys though. Not with this little man, and our very own princess in tow!” Ryan says, bouncing the toddler, and smiling down at Ryanne. She sits up, clearly still dizzy from all the spinning and grins up at him. 

“Papi! Oh Papi do I get a new fairytale dress!?” she asks. She climbs to her feet, and goes to hug Ryan around the waist, her face glowing. You look at Michael over your shoulder, and he’s already shaking his head and sinking back against the couch cushions. You snicker, pulling yourself up to your feet and over to the couch. Michael reaches for your hand, tugging you down to rest pressed against him. You snuggle close, tired after a long day. 

“Just remember, Cathy. You’re the one who let him win this argument,” he says quietly in your ear. You scowl. 

“It’s going to be fun!” you protest, ignoring him when he pushes your hair aside to press his mouth to your neck. You close your eyes, the sounds of Ryan and Ryanne and Brad laughing, of Michael’s familiar breathing in your ear. It all combines to feel like home. 

 

Ryan asks you about the trip in February. You finally convince Michael in March. And you tell the kids in April, with plans to leave for the trip exactly 4 weeks later in order to spend your anniversary in Florida. But two weeks after the announcement you’re sick as a dog. 

You don’t get sick often, but when you do, it’s usual pretty bad. Michael understands this, so when he gets home from picking up Ryanne from school and finds you passed out on the living room couch in the middle of the afternoon, flushed, and a little wheezy he knows. He picks up Brad, whose been fighting off a cold for the last few days, from where he’s curled up against your side, and kisses his forehead. 

“Look what you did,” he whispers, shaking his head, as he carries the sleeping baby upstairs to finish his nap in his bed. 

When you wake up, Michael has the coffee table all ready for you. It’s got the adult thermometer, Dayquil, throat lozenges left over from last time, and your most recent book sitting on it. You barely grumble that you’re awake before he has one big hand pressed to your forehead. You blink up at him and let out a pitiful little moan that has him smiling. 

“Aww, Cathy,” he says softly. “Here, let me take your temperature,” he presses the thermometer under your tongue, and you sigh, closing your mouth around it. 100.1 He shakes his head as he reads the tiny screen and presses a cool cloth to your forehead. “Where do you want to be? Here or upstairs?” he asks. You’re picky when you’re sick. He knows this. You stop and consider it. 

“Bed?” you whisper hoarsely. He nods. “Ryanne?” you whisper. 

“She’s upstairs. She’s fine. Ryan’s taking her shoe shopping later. He thinks she needs new sneakers for the trip.” You want to roll your eyes but that would take too much effort. Instead you let him pull you up off the couch. He doesn’t exactly carry you upstairs, but he does walk you there, his arms half supporting your weight on the stairwell. 

Michael gets you and all tucked into bed, leaving only to return with a glass of juice, and the supplies he’d previously arranged on the coffee table. He sits beside you, pushing the sweaty hair off your damp forehead. 

“How you feeling?” he asks. You groan, facie screwing up with distaste, and he laughs softly. 

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure him, starting to cough. “It’s just a chest cold,” you explain. He eyes you dubiously. He’s right though. It’s not just a chest cold. 3 days later you’re sicker than before and showing no signs of getting better. It’s Ryanne that convinces you to go to the doctor. 

“But mommy, if you’re sick, shouldn’t you go to the doctor to get medicines so you can feel better and you can play with us again? I want my bedtime stories!” she says pouting a little, from her spot by the bedroom door. You hadn’t let her come in any further. You feel suddenly like a bad mother. A horrible no good bad mother. 

“Isn’t Daddy reading to you?” you ask, sitting up and starting to cough again. She nods, clutching her stuffed dolphin. 

“Yes, but he doesn’t do the voices right, and he reads so slow,” she complains, and you fight to hide a smile. “And Granma’s great but she puts too much jelly on my sandwiches for school and she only gives me one fruit roll-up. Is hard to trade for a cupcake if you only have one fruit roll-up,” she pouts. You start to laugh and it quickly turns into a cough. She flinches. “Mommy!?”

“Mommy’s just fine,” Ryan reassures her, putting an arm around you, as Michael hands you a wad of kleenix. 

So you end up going to your doctor the next afternoon, only to be ordered back to bed for at least the rest of the week. You’re given a prescription for an order of antibiotics. And that’s that. 

By the end of the week you’re feeling better, and going stir crazy. You demand your tablet pc, and start working on schedules, and confirming things for the family vacation. You leave for Disney in just a week, and you want everything to be perfect. Not just for the kids, but for you, Ryan, and Mike too. It is your anniversary. 

By the time you’re ready to start packing to leave you’re feeling almost back to normal. Your energy levels are slow to bounce back but you’re not stuck in bed, and you’re able to resume most of your everyday activities. Which is why, two days before you’re set to leave, you end up lining the hallway with all the luggage the three of you own and trying to figure out which ones to use and where everything you need to bring with you will go. 

Ryan jogs up the stairs, and stops at the top. 

“Umm, Cath? You do know the clothes and stuff are inside the rooms. Not in the hallway, right?” he asks. You turn and give him a look. 

“Yes, I know that!” you reply. You poke at one of the medium sized bags. It’s red and blue and every time Brad sees it he starts to chant, as well as he can “Spier-man! Spier-man!” You blame Michael and Ryan and their Saturday morning cartoons for this particular fixation. “Definitely for Brad,” you say, dragging it into his room on the right. There’s already a stack of clothes on the bed, waiting to get stowed away. You’re taking about two weeks’ worth of clothes, even though your stay at Disney will only be 7 days. You know your son. He’s a messy little thing. The second week of your vacation will be spent at Ryan’s mother’s house, and you can make liberal use of her laundry machine. With that bag choice decided you go back to the hallway. Ryan is leaning against the balcony rail, watching you with clear amusement. 

“Need help?” he asks. You smile and nod. You nudge three of the larger bags toward the room you share with your husbands. 

“Yes please, you and I are both going to have to keep it to one bag each on this trip Ryan. I mean it!” you say. He makes a face, scooping up one of the heavy bags like it weighs nothing and taking it inside. 

“One bag for two weeks? That’s not gonna happen!” he says crossing his arms. You fight not to roll your eyes, setting a second bag down beside the first. 

“You and Mike can share! And there are washing machines in Florida. This isn’t a fashion shoot. It’s a low-key family vacation! And no shirts with Gators on it, or anything having to do with swimming, or Team USA, or the Olympics!” you proclaim. He sighs, dramatically, catching you around the waist and pulling you back against his chest. You melt a little. You’d missed him when you were sick, and you delight in having his arms wrapped around you again. He kisses you on the side of the neck. 

“Are you sure I can’t have two bags?” he asks, voice low and hot in your ear. It’s a dirty rotten trick, asking you that when you’re all tingly, and he’s got those lips pressed to the side of your jaw. You groan and you can FEEL the smile bloom on his face where it’s pressed to your skin. You tug away from him, spinning around.

“Fine! You and I are splitting it though. We can use it for like shoes, and purses and stuff like that!” the smile on his face as he tugs you close again makes your heart flutter just a little. 

“Deal,” he says, pecking you on the lips. “Thanks.” You wind your arms around his shoulders, and pull yourself up to kiss him properly. He leans down to meet your mouth half way, and you sigh a little in contentment, opening to his tongue. 

“Mommy?” you break away from Ryan’s kiss, keeping your hips pressed tightly to his, his erection hard against your inner thigh. He makes a quiet noise low in his throat that makes you smile in amusement. 

“Yes honey?” you say over your shoulder. Ryanne stands in the doorway, bouncing on her small feet, curls bundled up on top of her head in a messy ponytail. 

“You,” she pauses to pout a little, “You said I could help pack!” she says it like an accusation. You laugh, turning to press a kiss to Ryan’s jaw, and pulling reluctantly away. 

“Of course you get to help me pack! I haven’t started without you. I promise!” you say, hurrying across the room to scoop up your daughter. You grunt a little, and she wraps long legs around your waist. She’s getting so big so fast. You won’t be able to do this much longer. “Do you have any idea what you want to take with you yet?” you ask, heading back into the hall and down toward Ryanne’s room. She smiles and nods. 

“Papi!” she calls over your shoulder. “Papi! Come help us!” You plop her down on her pink comforter and turn toward her dresser. Ryan appears a moment later, dragging in one large suitcase. It’s pink, and you’d bought it for her the year before when you’d gone on your last family vacation. “Papi, which Princess dresses should I take!?” she asks, climbing down off the bed, and marching over to her closet. She pulls open the doors, revealing the racks full of dresses waiting there. You sigh, shaking your head. She has more clothes than you do. You shoot a look at Ryan, and he shrugs his shoulders, not looking the least bit repentant. 

“Take just your favorites, Ry,” he calls to her, snaking an arm around your waist, pulling you back aginst his body. You let out a little gasp. He’s still half-hard. “We’ll continue this later,” he says quietly into your ear, rocking his hips into yours. You groan a little and he releases you. “Why don’t you let me get started on this?” he asks, reaching past you. “You’re still recovering,” he says. You sigh but nod. You are tired. 

“Just remember she can’t ONLY take dresses and fancy shoes. She needs sneakers, shorts, jeans, and t-shirts. Oh and underwear and socks!” Ryan smiles at you, his nose scrunching up in amusement. 

“I’m not clueless, Cath, calm down!” he says setting the suitcase on the bed and flipping it open.

You kiss Ryanne on the top of her head, and get a big grin in reply. “I should check on Brad, he and Daddy have been entirely too quiet,” you tell her as you leave the room, Ryan’s laughter combined with your daughters follows you all the way down the stairs. 

 

The plane trip is less traumatic than you’d feared it would be. But the kids had both flown before, and you let Ryan and Mike each take charge of one. Michael sat in the row ahead of you with Ryanne, and you sat in a row with Ryan and Brad. And you all end up making it through the flight without too much screaming or crying, child and adult alike. But you’re glad to go straight to the hotel and crash. You had arranged for a two bedroom suite. With Ryanne and Brad sharing one room, each in their own bed, and you and your guys in the second bedroom with a King, it gives you enough space to spread out, without being excessive. 

Michael tucks you into bed for a nap with a kiss on the forehead, and then he and Ryan take the kids down to spend the afternoon at the hotel pool. You have just enough energy to throw a bottle of sunscreen after them before you pass out. You wake up to kisses on your face. But they aren’t grown up kisses. They’re baby kisses. You blink awake to find Brad’s smiling face. He’s crawled up onto the pillow beside you and he’s giving you little slobbery baby kisses all over your cheeks. You giggle at him reaching out to cuddle him close, and he snuggles his face into your neck, saying your name in a sleepy tone. He’s slightly damp and smells of chlorine. 

“Mama,” he whispers, eyes drooping. You reach around him and rub soothing circles into his back. You hear a quiet noise and look up to find Michael lounging in the doorframe. You smile at him and he comes closer, climbing into bed on the other side of your son. He leans over him, pressing his mouth to yours in a hello kiss that makes your toes curl. 

“Hey,” he whispers. 

“Hey. Did you guys have fun at the pool?” you ask. He nods. 

“A blast. Ryan spent most of the time helping Ryanne with her breaststroke technique though,” he teases. You screw up your face in annoyed amusement and he chuckles quietly. 

“Va-cay-tion,” you pronounce slowly. 

“We’re swimmers, Cathy. You won’t ever get us to leave that behind in Baltimore. Not even for a family vacation!” he teases. You pout. 

“He didn’t pull out the stop watch did he?” you ask. Michael shakes his head ‘no’ and you relax. “Working on technique is different than stroke drills for time,” you explain. He smiles again. 

“We’re ordering room service for dinner. Should we order the little guy chicken fingers?” he asks. You nod. “What would you like?” You think a minute before answering. 

“Can you order me some kind of chicken? Like lemon chicken or chicken with herbs? Something baked and not-greasy? I have a feeling once we get into the park tomorrow it will be all crap all day.” He nods and presses forward to touch his mouth to yours again. You hum in appreciation, but pull back when Brad stretches against you and makes a little whining sound. You rub his back again, soothing him back to sleep, as Michael eases slowly away so as to not jostle the bed. 

“Stay here. We’ll come get you when the food gets here,” he promises quietly. You nod and he leaves the bedroom, closing the door slowly behind him as he goes. 

 

You eat dinner around the table, with a sleepy Brad draped across Michael’s chest one tiny fist gripping a chicken finger or alternatively a ketchup covered French fry. He finally passes out, drooling on Mike’s t-shirt hands covered in ketchup and mouth messy. That’s right when there’s a quiet knock on the door. Mike stands up to take Brad to bed, while Ryan goes to answer it. You’re busy trying to convince Ryanne that eating the last of her green beans is of monumental importance. But all of that is immediately derailed when Ryan comes back. He’s carrying a large cardboard box, and wearing a huge grin, and your stomach flutters and drops at the same time, conflicting feelings of arousal and despair warring inside of you. 

“Ryan, what did you do!?” you ask. 

What Ryan had done, it turns out, is buy your daughter an entire wardrobe of specially fitted custom made princess dresses. And not just the typical ball gowns either. There is of course the famous gowns from Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Sleeping Beauty (a pink version because that was Ryanne’s favorite), The Princess and the Frog, Tangled, and Snow white. But there was also Belle’s blue dress and white apron, the green velvet dress Merida wore in Brave, Mulan’s pink dress with the blue sash, Alice’s dress and apron from Alice in Wonderland, and modified versions of Pocahontas’s dress and Jasmine’s midriff baring outfit from Aladdin. 12 outfits in total. Enough that she could wear 2 new ones for each day you had planned to spend in the parks. You shake your head in shock, as Ryan helps Ryanne pulled out one dress after another, as she squeals in delight with each new creation. 

The exasperation and outrage grow inside of you until you end up shutting yourself up inside of the master bathroom, your arms wrapped around your middle to hold in your fury. Mike knocks 10 minutes later, and you let him in. He takes one look at you and he knows you’re pissed. It takes a lot to get you angry. He tells you he got Brad cleaned up and put to bed and that Ryan was trying to corral Ryanne into her pajamas. 

“With all the excitement she probably won’t want to sleep for at least another hour,” he tells you. 

“I’m angry at him,” you say quietly. Michael sighs. 

“I know. I understand why too. But yelling and screaming won’t solve it. And going to bed angry won’t fix it either. So let’s just get Ryanne into bed, and then we can actually discuss it like the adults we are,” he offers. You sigh, rubbing your face and nodding. You stand up off the closed toilet lid, and let him yank you close. “This is supposed to be our anniversary,” he whispers, kissing you under your ear. You whine and let your weight fall against him. 

“I know,” you say into his shoulder. 

“Come on, time to use your Mommy magic,” he says, smacking you lightly on the rear end. 

You do manage to get Ryanne to sleep. Eventually. The process involves prying her away from her new dresses, barricading her bedroom door, wrestling her into bed, and then laying down with her and rubbing her back for half an hour, while telling her all of her favorite bedtime stories. 

By then it’s getting late, and Brad’s already long since fallen asleep. When you step into your bedroom you’ve mostly calmed down. You find Ryan sitting on the end of the bed looking upset, and Michael sitting beside him, with an arm wrapped around his shoulders. 

Groaning you sit down cross-legged on the floor in front of the two of them, looking up at Ryan with a questioning expression, your hands folded in your lap. 

“I know!” he says looking tired but contrite. “I should have talked to you about it. And I went way overboard. But…” he trails off. 

“But what?” Michael asks. You’re glad he asked. You’re trying to be understanding at the moment and if you asked it would have come out angry just then. 

“I just wanted this trip to be perfect for Ryanne. Little girls… they move past Princesses so fast. It’s like… One second they believe in fairy tales and the magic of Disney, and the next they think it’s stupid and they don’t want anything to do with it. She’s almost 8 now. This is probably the only trip to Disney we’ll get to take her on where she’ll really believe you know?” he asks. You nod. 

“Yes. I understand that, Ryan. You’re right. This was the prime time to take her, before she outgrows fairies and princesses and magic, but old enough to remember it all. However, that does not mean she needs to be spoiled rotten in the process,” you reply quietly. He ducks his head. 

“I just wanted it to be perfect,” he says softly. And he sounds almost broken. 

“It will be!” you reply. You roll to your knees and crawl over to kneel in front of him. “Ryan. She has the three of us and Brad with her. She’s going to ride rides, and meet the princesses, and play dress up, and experience all the wonder and joy that Disney World has to offer. And it’s going to be perfect. New dresses or no new dresses,” you say, pressing your hands to his knees. He nods. 

“I didn’t set out to get her all of those you know. I told the lady, I said ‘Here’s her measurements. I want her to have a couple of new princess outfits.’ And she sent me some sketches and I said yes. But then she sent me a few more sketches. And I liked those too. And I just wanted Ryanne to be happy. I wanted to make her happy,” he says quietly. Something in that last sentence makes you stop. 

“Ryan, why was it so important that you be the one to make her happy?” you ask. You know you hit the nail on the head because suddenly he can’t meet your eyes. 

“Ry? Come on, man,” Michael whispers. 

“She’s not mine,” Ryan whispers. “She doesn’t understand that. Not yet. But someday she’s going to figure it out, and I just…” he shakes his head, closing his eyes, and sighing. 

“Oh, Ryan,” you whisper. You reach up and cup his face. “She is yours. In all the ways that matter! You were there when we found out about her, when she was born, her first word, her first step, her first day of school. You’ve been there through all of it. And she loves you. You know she does,” you say pressing up onto your knees to be closer to him. Michael sighs. 

“It’s not going to make any difference to Ryanne. You need to understand that, Ry,” he says. Ryan turns to look at him, and you’ve rarely seen his eyes so full of pain before. “No matter what our kids will always only have one biological father. That’s just the way it works. But I love Ryanne and I love Brad. You love them. And they love both of us.” Michael stands up from the bed. Ryan and you both watch him pace. He reminds you suddenly of a caged tiger. Just as you’re about to say something he turns back around to look at you both. “Do you think I love Brad less because he’s not mine?” Michael asks. You jerk back as if slapped. 

“Of course not!” you snap, offended by the mere notion. Michael grimaces. 

“You can’t even know that for sure, Mike,” Ryan says quietly. Michael shakes his head. 

“Have you looked at that boy, Ryan? He looks exactly like you! He’s got your eyes, and your nose, and even your blond hair!” Mike snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s yours. And I love him just as much as I do Ryanne. They’re our kids. Ours. Not yours and Cathy’s and mine and Cathy’s. Ours. Yes, I’m Ryanne’s biological father. But you’re just as much a dad to her. And the reverse is true for Brad. If we tell them that, if we answer their questions and show them how we feel, that it makes no difference to us, than it won’t make a difference to them either,” Mike says. You climb to your feet and cover your face with your hands. You breathe deep and then drop your hands stepping into the V of Ryan’s legs. You grip his shoulders. Looking down at his upturned face, and over at Michael as you speak. 

“We went into this knowing it would be hard. That balancing things, keeping things equal was going to be damn near impossible. But I think we’ve done a pretty damn good job so far. I don’t care who is a blood parent and who isn’t. It doesn’t matter. If I was sterile,” you say, clearing your throat. “If I couldn’t have kids and we’d adopted than none of us would be a blood parent. And it wouldn’t change a single thing. Not for me. Would it change how you love those kids?” you ask Michael. He shakes his head. “Ryan?” you ask. 

“Of course not,” he replies, his hands come up to rest on your hips. You nod. 

“Then why assume it will matter to Ryanne? Or to Brad? Someday they’re going to learn where babies come from. And they’re going to figure out that someone is a biological father and someone isn’t. They might even ask for confirmation. But I can’t see Ryanne ever turning away from you Ryan. She adores you. And when Brad is being fussy the only one who can calm him down is Michael. That love and history is not going to disappear because they learn where the other half of their DNA came from!” you explain. 

Ryan looks back up at you and he nods. 

“I’m sorry. I should have talked to you. I just… I love them both so much. I can’t,” he breaks off then, dropping his head and pressing his face into your stomach, winding his arms further around your waist and hugging you tight. You let one hand sink into his hair, curling over him protectively. Michael’s there a moment later, wrapping long arms around both of you, and bringing with him the feeling of completion that always comes over you when the three of you are together. It’s moments like this that prove you were meant to be together, all three of you. Because you can’t imagine what it would be like without Michael, or without Ryan. 

“We’re a family, Ryan,” you whisper, letting your nails scratch across his scalp. 

“You aren’t going to lose any of us,” Michael continues, and you lean to the left, letting some of your body weight be supported by Michael’s. 

Ryan lifts his head looking up at both of you and you bend down to press your lips to his. You intend it to be comforting. You want to reassure him. But his hands turn possessive, and his mouth opens to yours, tongue seeking and taking. It takes only seconds for you to match him want for want. 

Michael joins the effort a moment later, tugging at your t-shirt, and pulling it free from your waistband. When you break your kiss with Ryan to tug your top off, you lean back so Michael can take his turn, Ryan reluctantly letting go of your waist and quickly gripping Michael’s. You sigh watching them kiss. They’ve been doing it for so long at this point they know each other’s mouths inside and out. Michael grips Ryan by the shoulders of his t-shirt and tugs ‘til he stands up. 

Now it’s your turn to work on undressing them. You pull at Michael’s belt, yanking his jeans open and tugging them down. You take his underwear with them. Then you turn to Ryan. Michael already has his belt undone, so it takes even less time to pull Ryan’s cargo shorts down and off. You almost choke when you realize he’s not wearing any underwear. You smack him on the ass and he lets out a little snort against Michael’s mouth that has their kiss breaking a part with a mutual laugh. They both step sideways, leaving their pants behind pooled on the floor. Their shirts they take off on their own, and then they pull you in close. 

The three of you make love slowly. It’s more about comfort and love and affection than straight up sex. You all take your time. It’s been a little while, between you being sick, and the stress over the trip. You hadn’t exactly been in the mood. But it’s wonderful to touch and be touched, to kiss and be kissed. Michael takes Ryan, and then Ryan takes you and it’s all so perfect you almost can’t breathe from the pleasure rising and expanding in your system. It explodes out of you in trembling waves and you end up passing out curled up between your two husbands around 1am, exhausted and sweaty, but fairly humming with echoed pleasure and relaxation. 

You’re woken up a few hours later by Michael’s mouth on yours. 

“Hi,” you whisper, wrapping arms around his neck, and tugging him close. He’s hard against your thigh, and you spread your legs wide so he can settle against you. The sun is just coming up, and you can hear Ryan in the shower. The kids will be up soon, and the Magic Kingdom awaits, but you think you have enough time for this, a quickie with Michael. You press your hips up into his and hum against his lips. He slides inside you without preamble and kisses down your throat, hands finding your breasts as he goes. You arch your back and let out a little moan. You’d missed them both so much, but you’re a touch sore from the night before, and his careful thrusts inside of you press just right to make the pleasure spark through you. Ryan comes out before the two of you are done, and leans, dripping in the entrance to the bedroom watching. “Ry,” you whine, reaching out for him. And a second later he’s there with you and when the pleasure takes you this time it’s not as sharp or fast. It’s a slow rolling burn, that leaves you staring at them both in wonder, and ready for a nap. Ryan kisses you slowly, before pulling away to get dressed. Mike tugs you to the side of the bed and into the bathroom for a shower. 

When you finally emerge Ryan has Ryanne sitting at the dining room table chewing on toast and bacon and scrambled eggs. He stands behind her, detangling her hair, and pinning it up on her head in some sort of elaborate bun or something. You’re not quite sure. You’re too busy watching Brad list to the side, rubbing at one eye with a tiny fist, and yawning. You catch Brad, sitting him upright in his seat again. You duck down to press a kiss on Ryanne’s forehead and then pull another chair over next to Brad’s, sitting close so he can lean into your side, and so you can help him eat his breakfast. 

“Morning Mommy!” Ryanne says smiling widely. 

“Morning, Baby,” you reply smiling back, surveying the food spread out across the table. 

“I ordered a little bit of everything. There’s muffins,” Ryan tells you with a knowing look. God, he knows all your weaknesses. The chocolate chip muffin is segregated from the rest. You grin at him as you rip off the muffin top and start mixing cream into your coffee cup. 

“Thanks,” you say, turning to study Ryanne. It’s late for her, but somehow you know she hadn’t slept well the night before. Too excited you suspect. “So what dress are you wearing today, hon?” you ask her. She smiles at you brightly, sitting up a little straighter in her chair. Mike comes out just then and she stops to let him kiss her cheek. 

“Hi, Daddy!” She says in greeting before smiling back at you, grape jelly from her toast on her chin. “Papi and I think Cinderella would be fun for this morning and Tiana for this afternoon!” she exclaims. You raise an eyebrow at Ryan. 

“You had it in your schedule that we’d come back mid-afternoon anyway, for the little guys N A P,” he spells out, and you grin at him. Brad seems too have come awake some by then, and you watch him climb down from his chair, and wander around the table to Michael. 

“Up, Daddy, up,” he says quietly, tugging on Mike’s t-shirt. Michael grins at him, running one hand through his blond curls, before reaching down to lift him into his lap. You nudge Brad’s scrambled eggs further around the table to Michael who snags the plate with one big hand and pulls it closer. You take a bite of muffin and your eyes roll back in your head, prompting both Ryan and Mike to laugh. You grin, hopping up to go find your tablet. All your notes and schedules are on it. You are nothing if not highly organized. 

You put Mike in charge of carrying The Bag. The Bag is your go to for all necessities. It has a change of clothes for each child, sunscreen, snacks, water, Brad’s lovey, a small first aid kit, your tablet and other odds and ends. You have anything and everything you could possibly need in that bag. And you put Michael in charge of it. He gives you a completely sincere head nod and pledges to not let it out of his sight. He looks so serious when he says it, all big brown eyes and long lashes, that you surge forward to kiss him, arms sliding around his neck to yank him down to your height. He smiles against your mouth, his lips opening to deepen the kiss. Ryan laughs from behind you. 

“If that’s the reward for watching the bag, I’ll take my turn tomorrow!” he says. You roll your eyes, pulling out of the kiss. Mike laughs softly, and you dart forward again to peck him on the lips a second time, before stepping back. 

“Tomorrow. For today you are in charge of your namesake,” you explain. Ryanne bounds forward all excitement and good cheer. 

“What’s a namesake?” she asks, practically vibrating with energy and happiness. You smile at her, pressing her hand to the top of her curly head. 

“A namesake is someone who is named after you. Like how you are named after Papi,” you explain. She nods, understanding filling her big brown eyes. 

“Oh ok. Are we going soon!?” she asks, bouncing again. You grin at her. 

“Yes. Let’s get you dressed.” 

You end up pinning Cinderella’s crown in place around the bun Ryan had styled there. She looks beautiful in her pale blue gown, even if you insist she wears her sneakers underneath. She’s happy later, because you walk a lot. Like a lot. You’re glad to have the stroller for Brad, though to be honest with the crowds, you end up carrying him at least part of the day. 

Day one is spent in the Magic Kingdom. Ryan surprises you with a Disney Ambassador, who acts as a tour guide around the park. Kari is a nice girl, very friendly and Ryanne takes to her right away. She knows where anything and everything is, and helps you skip all the lines. With that help you end up making it on practically every ride you had planned for the day. 

You start with Tomorrowland. Ryan and Mike end up racing each other on the Speedway, Ryanne tucked into Michael’s side in a dual car, while you sit out cheering them on with Bradley. He’s so small there are rides he just can’t go on, and still recovering from your flu you are more than happy to sit out with him. So you let Mike and Ryan take Ryanne on Space Mountain, and the Astro Orbiter. But you all enjoy the People Mover and the Carousel of Progress. Though Bradley freaks out with the animatronics start moving, and crawls across both Ryan and Michael to get to you, and cries through the whole ride. 

Ryan ends up taking Ryanne on the Stitch ride, while you and Mike take Brad to clean off all the snot and give him extra cuddle time. By the time they’ve finished Brad is running around you and smiling again. By the time the five of you have finished laughing your asses off at the Monsters Inc, Laugh Floor, everyone is ready for lunch

You find a café and by the time the kids are half done with their meal, they’re practically passing out in their seats. You’re very glad you have two husbands, one to carry each of them back to the car. 

You return to the hotel, where you put the kids down for their naps. You end up sitting on the side of the bathtub with your feet in the hot water, leaning back against Ryan. 

“You’re doing too much,” he says, rubbing your shoulders. You sigh. 

“I want them to get to do everything, Ryan. I don’t want to miss out on any of it,” you reply, melting back against him. Mike appears then. He sticks one foot in the bath tub and straddles the side of it next to you. 

“I understand that, but if we’re rushing from one thing to another all day, every day, they aren’t going to enjoy it. Not like they could. This is about us as a family. This isn’t the only time we’ll ever bring them here,” he explains. You nod. 

“Ok. What about Epcot? Why don’t we cut out Epcot? Next year we can come back and do Epcot and Universal. Make this trip all about Disney and Animal Kingdom?” you suggest. There are no objections. 

“I think that is a fabulous idea,” Ryan replies, sliding his arms around your middle and kissing your shoulder. 

“Now how about we all take a nap?” Michael says, standing and offering you a hand up. You nod, letting him pull you to your feet. 

By the time everyone has woken up it is nearing mid-afternoon. With that in mind you start to amend the schedule, while Mike wrangles Brad into clean clothes, and Ryan helps Ryanne into her second dress. Everyone has a snack, apples and grapes, and slices of cheese. 

Then it’s off to Fantasyland, Ryanne freshly changed into Tiana’s green dress from The Princess and the Frog. 

Kari meets you at the entrance to the park, just as bright and bubbly as that morning. You like her, but it makes you feel strange having her tour you around in her uniform. You dislike how it makes people stare. You ask her about this, and she ends up changing into civilian clothes. She keeps her radio, but sticks it in a bag thrown over her shoulder. Now she just looks like your little sister, or a babysitter coming along for the adventure. Everyone still knows her, so you get the benefits without most of the awkwardness. 

You make everyone ride It’s a Small World, and then you pile on Peter Pan’s Flight. Ryanne insists on sitting with Ryan, so Brad cries for Papi too. And you end up in a flying ship alone with Michael. He smiles at you as the ship lifts off and slides his arm around you, tugging you close. If asked later you couldn’t have described a single moment of the ride, because you spent most of it making out with your husband, eyes closed, and hands roaming. You don’t even feel guilty about it later, though Ryan does smirk, and give the two of you a knowing look when you stumble off the ride to join him and the kids at the exit. Even Kari fights to hold back a grin of amusement. 

You go to Mickey’s PhilharMagic, which has Bradley enthralled. Then go to Fairytale Garden to meet Rapunzel. Brad sits out Snow White’s Scary Adventure, but Ryan insists you go on with Mike and Ryanne. 

Ryanne and Bradley both enjoy the Winnie the Pooh ride, and insist on going through it a second time. You and Ryan take Ryanne on the Mad Tea Party tea cup ride. You both end up mad at him when he spins the ride so fast you end up turning green. Afterward you tell him he’s lucky he didn’t get hurled on, it would have been his own fault. Then it’s time to eat again and watch the fireworks explode over Cinderella’s Castle. 

By the time you get the kids back to the hotel they’re asleep again, and you collapse into bed exhausted. 

“Next year, for our anniversary, I think we should leave the kids with one of their grandma’s and go lay out on a beach somewhere. I want sleep, and a suntan, and someone bringing me tropical drinks right there at the water’s edge. The kind with the little umbrellas,” you decide. Ryan smiles into your shoulder, one hand sliding up the front of your t-shirt. 

“Whatever you want, Babe,” he whispers, kissing your neck. You push at his chest half-heartedly. 

“Stop it, I’m all sweaty and gross. Let me shower first,” you beg. Michael laughs, crowding up on your other side, his hands going to the top of your jeans. 

“Why? We’re just going to get you all sweaty and gross again. Why waste the water?” he asks, pressing his mouth to the flat of your belly. Your breath hitches in your chest, and you lift your hips so he can tug your jeans and panties off your hips and down your legs. 

“I don’t have the energy for this,” you moan, spreading your thighs, your eyes fluttering shut. Michael laughs, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. Ryan moves closer, pushing at your t-shirt. 

“Don’t worry. We’ll do all the work,” he assures you, kissing up the valley between your breasts and then up the side of your neck. You sigh, Michael’s hands sliding up your thighs, warm and moving with intent. You arch up into their touch, and close your eyes. Michael’s mouth presses high on your inner thigh, his breath hot and teasing on your center. You tense in anticipation. 

“Oh the sacrifices I make for the two of you,” you pant, tugging Ryan’s mouth to yours, one hand reaching down to grip Michael by his hair tugging his mouth in closer. 

 

The second day of your Disney family vacation is spent at Hollywood Studios seeing show after show, and riding ride after ride. You will forever remember the look on Ryanne’s face when she stepped into the Beauty and the Beast show wearing Belle’s famous yellow ball gown. Or Brad’s squeal of delight at the Muppet show. 

Somehow Hollywood Studios seems less hectic than the Magic Kingdom had been. It’s less running around and more about the five of you spending time together as a family. You’re infinitely grateful that both your guys had taken your warning to heart. There was nothing noteworthy about any of their clothing. They were wearing their hats, and keeping a low profile. Every once in a while the group of you would get a quick double take, and a few brave souls ventured over for an autograph but it was all manageable. 

You collectively decide to save the rides for later in the afternoon, glad for your guide. It gives you time to walk and enjoy yourselves, to take pictures and eat ice cream. 

Around 1pm the group of you head back to the hotel for lunch. Ryan orders a pizza, while you get Brad into the bathtub. He is covered in melted chocolate ice cream. By the time you’ve got him scrubbed down he’s grumpy and hungry. You lift him out of the tub and wrap him in a fluffy towel. 

“Want cheese pizza or pepperoni?” you ask him, drying his curly hair with a smaller towel. He sticks his thumb in his mouth and pouts. He looks so much like Ryan in that moment that your chest tightens in response. He sighs like the little drama prince he is, and lets himself go limp against your chest, head on your shoulder. 

“’peroni,” he mumbles, one hand going into your lose hair. “An jooce,” he says slowly. 

“I’m sure Daddy made sure there would be juice. You want to go check? I bet he’d let you eat in his lap again. Since you were so good this morning.” He straightens up a little, eyes widening with delight. You will never get over how much he loves Michael. Just like Ryanne loves Ryan best of all, Bradley loves Michael best. You sort of think it’s only fair. 

“Cathy!” Ryan’s voice calls down the hall. “Food’s here!” That’s all it takes and Bradley is tearing across the bathroom and out the cracked open door. You let out a shocked laugh, watching his little naked butt slip out the door, bare feet slapping on hardwood. 

“No running!” you call standing up. A small moment of dizziness has you reaching for the bathroom counter, but it passes quickly. You take a deep breath and feel absolutely fine. You lay Brad’s damp towel across the wet splashes on the floor to soak up the excess water, and then scoop up his clean underwear and shorts from the shelf over the toilet. You have a toddler to wrangle into clothes. 

Lunch is loud and fun, and boisterous. Brad eats his slice of pizza and cup of apple juice from his favorite spot, in Michael’s lap, one big hand steadying his tiny body as he balances across Michael’s left thigh. Ryanne sits on the bench seat, next to you. Ryan has changed her out of her dress and back into her pajamas from the night before. Which you’re overwhelmingly grateful for as soon as the first glop of gooey cheese hits her lap. 

“Sorry,” she says scooping it up with her fingers and holding it up. You laugh grabbing a napkin. You take it from her wiping the sauce clean of her leg and her fingers. “Are we going back to Hollywood later?” Ryanne asks, going back to her pizza. She sticks a piece of crust on your plate, and pulls a slice of pepperoni off her slice to stick in her mouth. 

“Yes, we have a few more shows to do and there’s the rides still left to be ridden,” you explain, pulling her long hair back off her shoulders and out of her face. She nods. 

“What about tomorrow?” she asks. It’s Ryan who answers.

“Tomorrow we get to go back to the Magic Kingdom,” he explains. She nods smiling widely around her pepperoni slice. 

“Are you having fun, baby?” Michael asks, wiping at Brad’s face. You smile at your son, who is now reclined against his Daddy’s chest and sound asleep, his mouth hanging open, and rimmed with red sauce. 

“Yes, Daddy. This is the bestest trip ever. Can we come back next year?” she asks, kicking her feet under the table. You meet Ryan’s eyes and grin. 

“We’ll have to see, hon,” you tell her. “Next year you might want to go somewhere different. Maybe next year we can go to Disneyland instead,” you suggest. Her eyes get really wide then. 

“Are there different rides there?” she asks excitedly. 

“Of course there are!” Ryan says. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still have a lot to see here in Florida. We can talk about next year later. Now the real question,” he pauses for dramatic affect. “Are you going to ride Tower of Terror with your Papi? I think I’ll need someone to hold my hand.” She lets out a laugh. 

“Of course, Papi! I’ll always hold your hand!” she says, wiggling in her chair. “Bestest vacation ever!” she announces again. 

Unfortunately the loud shout wakes up Brad who starts to cry. 

“Crap,” Mike mutters, turning Bard around in his lap to hug him tightly. “It’s ok, little man,” he says, rubbing a hand against Brad’s bare back. “It’s ok, come lay down with Daddy,” Mike offers, wiping at the tears rolling down Brad’s face. He stands up, hiking Brad up higher, and heading off toward the bedroom. Ryanne turns toward you, her eyes filling with tears. 

“I didn’t mean to wake him up, Mommy! I didn’t mean to make him cry!” she says with a hiccup. You slide closer, curling your arm around her. 

“I know you didn’t. It’s ok. He’ll be fine. He was just startled,” you stroke a hand through her hair and let her sniffle against your shoulder. “Why don’t we let Daddy and Brad take a nap? He’ll feel better if he gets some sleep. Help me put the pizza away,” you say trying to distract her. 

It’s an hour or two later that you head back to Hollywood Studios, Ryanne in her Sleeping Beauty dress, and camera in tow. There’s still so much left to see. 

You loved HS, but you’re glad to head back to Magic Kingdom for Day three. That you start the day off by having breakfast with the Princesses is just an added bonus. You get a lot of great pictures of Ryanne in her Rapunzel dress posing with all the princesses, an ecstatic smile on her face. And one of Brad, blushing at the attention Snow White is giving him. 

The family spends the day in Liberty Square, in Frontierland, on Main Street USA. You meet Mickey, go on a Riverboat ride, visit Haunted Mansion, and rock out at the Country Bear Jamboree. 

By then you’re feeling a little Magic Kingdom’d out. And you head back to the hotel for a nap and some food. 

By then Brad’s tired and a little whiney, so you stay at the hotel with him, while Ryan and Mike head off with Ryanne, dressed as a very pretty Mulan, to go hit a few of their favorite places for a second time without you and the baby slowing them down. You end up putting him in his swimsuit and going to lay by the pool with him stretched out next to you to get some sun. He falls asleep stretched across your lap. 

Mike and Ryan are late getting back to the hotel, by the time they do, Ryanne is practically sleep walking, and you’re already curled up in bed with Brad reading a book. Ryanne takes one look at you curled up with her brother and runs off with renewed energy to get her PJs on. She’s back a minute later, her hair still piled up onto of her head and dragging her stuffed dolphin. She doesn’t even ask before crawling into bed on your other side. And you’re too comfortable and sleepy to argue with her. You fall asleep before Ryan and Mike can both climb in with you and the kids, the room still bright with lamp light. 

Day four of your Florida vacation is the day of your actual anniversary. To shake things up a bit you take the kids the Animal Kingdom. It’s a full day of rides, and education, seeing the animals, and going on safari. Midway through the day, Ryan changes Ryanne out of her Pocahontas dress and into her Snow White gown. You eat lunch at the park, before going to see Finding Nemo the Musical, and leaving early. Ryan takes control of your rented car and heads for the beach. When you protest Michael directs your attention to the bag in the back of the car filled with towels, suits, and other beach necessities. 

You laugh when you get there. They’ve rented a beach cabana. You change yourself and the kids into swim attire, and step outside to find a beach chair with a big umbrella, and a waiter standing there with a large tropical drink on a tray waiting in its shade. 

You stretch out on the chair, tide creeping closer and closer to your feet while Ryan and Mike take turns with the kids, and sitting beside you in the second chair. 

“Good anniversary so far?” Mike asks. You pull the sunglasses off your face as the sun sets behind you, watching Brad and Ryan build a sand castle, while Ryanne gathers sticks to build the wall around the moat. You grin. 

“It’s been perfect. You guys are getting so much nookie tonight,” you tease. He grins at you, wiggling his eyebrows. “You packed Ryan’s present, right?” you ask. He nods. 

“Yes, in the bottom of my bag,” he grabs a sip of your drink, before laying back in his chair, all sprawled limbs, and smooth muscle. You turn toward him in your chair, rolling onto your side, and flinging an arm across his tummy, glad the chairs are so close. He scoots closer to you. 

“He’s going to love it,” you say quietly. Michael nods. 

“A custom Hugo Boss watch with his name done in emeralds and yellow diamonds across the face. He better love it,” Mike teases. You don’t tell him how you and Ryan had gotten him a matching one, with his name done in rubies and sapphires. Won’t they both be surprised when they open presents later that night?

You’re trying not to think about what they might have gotten you. You can’t think of anything you could possibly want. 

You might doze off there, with Michael’s arm around you, because you blink awake at the feel of Ryan sitting behind you on your chair. You look over at him. He’s tan and smiling, slightly wet and gritty with sand, but grinning. You smile at him, reaching for him with one hand. He takes it, squeezing your palm twice with his. You stretch lazily, and then come awake completely with a confused jerk. 

“The kids?!” you ask. Michael’s arm squeezes around your middle. Ryan shakes his head. 

“Kristen has them,” he nods to the edge of the water, and you sit up to look. There is Ryan’s sister jeans rolled up around her knees, running around in the surf with Brad clinging to her back, and Ryanne squealing with delight, sand shovel in one hand, bucket in the other chasing after her. You relax back into your chair. 

“What’s Kristen doing here?” you ask rubbing at your eyes. Ryan looks over your shoulder to smile at Michael. 

“She’s taking the kids tonight. So we can celebrate our anniversary together without anyone under the age of 18 interfering.” Ryan explains. Your eyes meet his and he’s squinting in the setting sun, freckles standing out starkly on his cheeks, and hazel blue eyes shining. 

“What did you guys do?” you ask. Michael laughs. 

“You’re not the only one who knows how to schedule and plan things out, Cathy,” he teases. 

You kiss the kids goodbye and head up stairs to shower and change. Apparently you have a night out to get ready for. The boys leave you alone while you get ready, so as to not distract you. When you leave the bathroom with your hair and make-up done, the nicest dress you’d thought to pack on, you find them waiting on the end of the bed, about 30 seconds away from stripping naked right there and humping. You clear your throat and fight down a smile. 

“Michael, dear, aren’t you supposed to be helping Ryan put more clothes on, not take them off?” you ask, pushing your earring back onto its post more securely, and walking past them to the closet to find your shoes. Michael looks up from he’s straddling Ryan’s hips, hands freezing in place where they’re tugging Ryan’s shirt tail free of his dress pants. Their mouths disengage with a wet sound that has you smiling into the darkness of your closet. You dig out your black heels, and turn around to find them both standing, three feet of space between them, hands patting down hair, and smoothing shirts. 

You give them both an obvious once over just to make them laugh, while slipping on your shoes, then go to find your sexy purse where you’d stuffed it in a dresser drawer. You toss in a tube of lipstick and your cellphone and turn to them ready to go. 

“Well?” you ask, spinning in place. 

“Are you sure we can’t just barricade the door and stay in tonight?” Michael asks. You set your hands on your hips and glare, then turn to Ryan. 

“Hit your horny husband for me. I don’t want to break a nail,” you order, watching with great delight as Ryan does just that, making Michael dart away from him. He snags you around the waist with one long arm on his way to the door. 

“Spousal abuse!” he cries, hiding behind you. You lean back against him rolling your eyes and laughing. 

“Yeah, sure, hide behind Cathy when she’s the one who ordered the smack!” Ryan replies, smile huge and real as he pulls on his suit jacket. 

 

There’s a black stretch limousine waiting at the curb when you step outside the hotel. And you share a bottle of champagne in the back on the way to your destination. The restaurant you’re taken too is classy and intimate. The maître d’ meets the three of you by name, not batting an eyelash as he escorts you to a big round corner booth, one out of the way and quiet. You find yourself sliding around the table to the back curve, one of your guys on either side. 

The waitress is prompt, polite, and very well trained. She answers all your questions quickly and with little effort, and your food is paired with an excellent wine, brought quickly, and served hot. 

You’re relaxed and happy when it’s time to leave the restaurant. You’re a little tipsy, and the three of you have talked more in the past few hours than it feels like you’ve talked in weeks. It’s nice to relax back into your seat, Michael’s hand resting low on the small of your back, and one of Ryan’s resting high up on your thigh, to talk about music and movies, and more personal topics without wiping up spilled juice, or wrangling two bouncy kids. 

By the time you’re sliding into the back of the limousine, you’re warm and flushed from alcohol and wandering hands. You’re tummy’s full, and you’ve got two different types of cheesecake bundled up in a to-go box for later. 

You fling yourself up the side seat toward the driver’s rear window, and let yourself sprawl out there. Michael climbs in next, sliding his too tall body into the car and up beside yours, he pulls your right leg into his lap, right hand sliding up the inside of your thigh. You sigh, closing your eyes. The car rocks the tiniest bit as Ryan climbs in too, the door closing behind him. You hum, sliding down a little bit, and causing Michael’s hand to slide up higher. 

He leans over you, bracing himself with one hand between your waist and the seat back, the fingers of his right hand brushing a fraction of an inch closer to your center, and making your breath stutter out in a low moan. He presses his mouth to the base of your throat. 

“I’m not fucking you in a limo,” he whispers, nose bumping the curve of your jaw, lips sucking wet kisses up the side of your neck and up behind your ear. The car gives a little jolt as it starts forward, and your body slides closer, his fingers unintentionally edging closer to the lace of your underwear. You wiggle, smiling teasingly. 

“You sure about that?” you ask. He shakes his head, leaning down to press his mouth to the side of your chin, then down the length of his throat. 

“Do I get an opinion?” Ryan asks. You blink your eyes open to focus on his face, where he’s sprawled out on the seat across from you. You watch him unbutton the top few buttons of his dress shirt, and loosen his tie, and your hips twitch up in Michael’s direction involuntarily, getting a laugh in response, his fingers clenching on your inner thigh. 

“Always,” Michael says, “though I’m pretty sure whose side you’re going to be on this time.” 

“You act like I’m always on Cathy’s side!” Ryan says, shedding his coat jacket. Michael rolls his eyes, giving Ryan a fond smile. 

“You’re not always on Cathy’s side,” Michael admits. Ryan looks triumphant, until Michael continues. “You’re usually on your dick’s side!” Ryan’s shocked gasp has you fighting a hysterical laugh. 

“Oh, honey, don’t look so offended,” you say, pushing yourself up, and shoving Michael’s hand off your thigh, you duck across the aisle, to kneel beside Ryan on the other seat, where’s he’s started to pout. You press against him, folding your arms around him. “Don’t pout. It’s good to know you love your dick as much as we do,” you tease. His forced frown breaks and before you can blink he’s dragged you into his lap, laughing as he pulls your mouth to his in a kiss. You sink against him, hands clenching on his shoulders as you grind down into his lap. You barely register Michael picking up the phone to talk to the driver asking him to take us on the scenic route around the city. 

It takes you a better part of an hour to arrive back at the hotel,

You can only pray you don’t look as debauched as you probably do on your way through the hotel lobby. You only have to smack Michael’s hand off your ass once. You land an empty elevator for just the three of you, and you end up leaning against Ryan’s shoulder, feeling drowsy and relaxed as you let him support your weight. His arm wraps tight around your side, and you let your head rest on his shoulder. 

Michael pulling out his wallet and retrieving a card has you blinking in surprise, and standing up straight. He slides the room card through the scanner on the wall of the elevator, before pressing the button for the penthouse. Your jaw drops in confusion. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. Michael smiles at you sort of gleefully, and refuses to answer. When the elevator stops moving, he takes your hand and leads you down the hallway Ryan following close behind. There are only four doors off the hallway, and Michael leads you to the furthest one. “What did you guys do?” you ask as he unlocks the door and holds it open for you. 

It’s like walking into a perfect movie moment. There’s a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne, lit candles in glass votives and bouquets of flowers on every available surface. You venture further into the suite and it’s like a romantic dream come true. A fire crackles in the fireplace and rose petals trail from the living area to the bedroom. You pause in the doorway, feeling the breath go out of you. The bedroom looks like something out of a fairytale complete with gauzy curtains framing the bed and silky sheets. 

You pause there, smiling in your shock. Ryan presses up behind you, pulling you backward into an embrace. You melt against him. 

“You guys! You planned this whole day didn’t you? You sneaks!” you cry. 

“Yeah well you planned this whole trip. And everyone deserves a little spoiling now and then,” Ryan explains. Michael appears then with three wrapped gifts. 

“Presents now or presents later?” he asks. You make grabby hands and Ryan uses the arm around your waist to direct you to the couch. You push him down to sit beside Michael, and then you plop down in his lap, extending your legs over Michael’s thighs. 

“Oldest first?” you suggest, plucking the appropriate box out of Michael’s hands and handing it to Ryan. He tears off the paper, and opens the box staring with delighted astonishment at the watch inside. He squints at you purposefully before pulling first you and then Michael into a kiss. You lean back and watch hands start to wander, and clear your throat with a laugh. They pull apart before sharing a hungry look that makes your stomach warm in anticipation. “Mikey’s turn,” you say. He picks up the box marked with an M, and rips into eagerly. 

He looks confused when he sees the Hugo Boss box, and he cracks it open carefully. The laugh he lets out when he sees the watch makes you laugh too. 

“I never said I was the most creative person. But I did manage to talk you both into getting the other the same present didn’t I?” you say. Michael shakes his head, kissing you and saying thanks before kissing Ryan. 

“We totally have to wear these to Golden Goggles this year,” Michael says. 

“And the Espy’s,” Ryan grins. You shake your head, reaching for your present. 

“My turn!” you say, bouncing in excitement. Ryan groans, and you smack him in the shoulder for the implied insult. Michael hands you the gift, and they watch you eagerly tear off the paper. 

It’s a jewelry box, the three you can be kind of predictable for your anniversary. This year is no different. You open the black velvet box, and find a ring inside. It’s beautiful, and colorful, more detailed than you usually prefer. But it only takes you a few seconds to realize what it is, and for your chest to seize with emotion. 

“It’s a,” Ryan starts but you finish the sentence before he can. 

“A mother’s ring,” you say, pulling it from the box to look at it more closely. There are three large stones in the center, representing, you realize the three of you. A bright white pearl for Michael, a peridot stone for Ryan, and an aquamarine for you. Your three birth stones. On one side, nestled between your aquamarine and Ryan’s peridot is a small topaz for Brad. And on the other, nestled between your stone and Mike’s pearl is a small peridot for Ryanne. It’s your family, all clustered together in yellow gold. “My Mom had one. My dad got it for her when I was born. This is beautiful. It’s perfect.” Michael takes it from you, and takes your right hand in his. He slides it up your middle finger to rest snuggly next to your commitment ring on your ring finger. 

“Thank you,” you say, honestly touched. Ryan presses a kiss to the side of your face, and Michael pulls your hand up to his mouth, and kisses you on the knuckles. You slump against them, rubbing your thumb against the bottom curve of the ring. “Four years,” you whisper, tugging their arms further around you. 

Michael smirks, tucking hair behind your ear, reaching around behind you to grip Ryan by the back of the neck. 

“More like 8,” he says. Ryan laughs, his arm curling around you further. 

“You guys are still happy right?” he asks. You shift, pressing your back into his body, and pulling his arms all the way around your waist. You grip them tight, and reach for Michael. He moves closer, shaking his head. 

“How could we not be? Any of us?” he asks. You look over your shoulder at Ryan, and smile. 

“I’ve never been happier than I am right now. Not once in my entire life,” you promise him. His hands clutch at your hips, and he presses his forehead into your shoulder. He pulls one hand away from your side to reach for Michael, and then the three of you start twisting into an intricate knot of limbs and progressively fewer clothes, until you’re all naked. Michael disappears for a minute and comes back with a plush comforter that he spreads out across the living room floor. It’s borderline cliché, but you don’t even care. 

You’d be happy to report the next day, if it was anyone’s fucking business, that despite your ages, the three of you perform quite remarkably well. And by the time you rinse off in the shower and collapse into bed you’re sore in all sorts of places, and almost giddy with happiness. You’re also missing the kids more than you feel you can freely admit too without sounding like a crazy woman. 

The next two days are spent relaxing and enjoying everything the Magic Kingdom has to offer. Ryanne enjoys the rest of her Princess dresses, you take more photos than you will ever be able to organize into coherent photo albums. Everyone gets a set of Mickey Ear and at least one stomach ache from too much sugar. You and Ryanne sneak off on the last afternoon to the Bibbidi’ Bobbidi Boutique for your Disney Princess Makeovers. You watch the parades, enjoy the fireworks displays, and spend more time shopping than your family accountant would probably like. You ignore the voice in the back of your head mentally preparing you for a lecture at the end of the month. And you finally leave Disneyworld exhausted but monumentally happy with how the trip went. 

You spend another week in Florida, visiting with Ryan’s family before heading back home to Baltimore. 

It’s two weeks later that you’ll discover the extra special souvenir you’d brought home from your trip, and it’s sort of fitting that this time it’s Michael who finds you shouting in the master bathroom, clutching the test in your fist and jumping up and down. The first time it had been Ryan, the second time you’d been home alone, and the last time it’s with Michael there. That’s sort of fitting all things considered. 

The next year, when the three of you celebrate your anniversary you give Michael monogrammed golf gloves, Ryan a new pair of customized Gucci sunglasses, and you’re presented with another, updated, mother’s ring. 

Three stones set in a triangle, with smaller stones placed nestled into each gap. With Michelle’s amethyst nestled between Ryan’s peridot and Michael’s pearl, it looks like a perfect circle. Your family completed at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Started in Summer 2012, finished in Nov 2013 for NaNoWriMo.


End file.
